


Another Sean

by foreverHenry919



Category: Forever (TV 2014)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Deja Vu, Family, Fantasy, Gen, Married Couple, Mind Games, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverHenry919/pseuds/foreverHenry919
Summary: This story takes place after “The Morgan Chronicles” and after “Nora Morgan’s Diary”. Henry, Jo, 2-year-old Rennie, and Abe have settled into a busy but comfortable routine managing work and home life and childcare. But during her usual fill-up at a coffee shop around the corner from the precinct, Jo sees someone she thought she’d never see again --- at least not alive.
Relationships: Jo Martinez & Henry Morgan, Jo Martinez/Sean Moore
Comments: 37
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Morgan Chronicles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917951) by [foreverHenry919](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverHenry919/pseuds/foreverHenry919). 



> I do not own Forever TV 2014 TV show or any of its characters. But boy, wouldn't I love to see the old ones and some new ones back on TV or somewhere!

It was day three of Henry’s week to drop off Little Lorenzo (Rennie) at daycare in the mornings and pick him up from there in the afternoons. The sharing of that particular duty and others had continued to work well for them for the past year and a half. Married life had also brought out a glow in Jo reminiscent of the one that motherhood had. Likewise, a twinkle had been added to Henry’s eyes and confidence to his gait that his elder son, Abraham, had not seen since Abigail had been in their lives. The discernible change in both had also not gone unnoticed by any of their colleagues in either the 11th Precinct or the OCME. 

As Jo stood in line at the coffee shop and inched up ever so slowly, she heaved a sigh of thanks that at least there were now only two people ahead of her. Her thoughts returned to a recent case they’d wrapped up, the mercy killing of an elderly couple by their middle-aged son and daughter. Jo shook her head at the siblings’ twisted reasoning for the double murder. Even if she could half-way understand a person wanting to put their loved one out of their suffering --- the father --- she could not see any justification for them having killed his relatively healthy caregiver, their mother. 

_“Mom wouldn’t have wanted to see Dad suffer any longer,” the son had calmly and confidently told them._

_“And we both knew that Mom wouldn’t have wanted to live without Dad,” the daughter had added with matched confidence and calm._

_Their oddly pleasant smiles, Henry had commented, gave them the looks of mindless dolts._

“Hot White Chocolate Mocha Grande!” the cashier cheerily announced to a customer. 

Hmmm, Jo mused, that’s what Sean used to order. The broad shoulders of a tall gentleman right ahead of her blocked her view of the man paying for the order. Only his neatly coifed auburn hair over the man’s broad left shoulder and his hand were visible as he took the large cup and the receipt from the cashier. Jo readied herself to covertly take in the man’s appearance when he walked past her, but she only briefly glimpsed him from the back as he exited through the other door near the cashier. 

For a moment, she thought how much the man had reminded her of … but ... no. It wasn’t possible. Sean was dead. He’d died more than five years ago. Jo laughed to herself and chastised herself for having such an impossible thought. He wasn’t Sean. Just a guy with … an almost identical jacket and frayed-edged briefcase. Jo gulped at the thought before hearing the cashier’s voice again. 

“Ma’am?” 

Slightly embarrassed, Jo realized that she was holding up the line and hadn’t even noticed when the broad-shouldered man who’d been in front of her had paid for his order. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled in reply. She handed her debit card to Joanie, the young cashier, who smiled and pointed to the card reader. Jo shook her head and inserted the card into the slot, but it was a second or two before she recalled the four-digit pin and hastily punched it in. She took the receipt and began to leave but the cashier stopped her. 

“Ma’am?” Joanie repeated. “Don’t forget your order.” 

Jo sighed again, exasperated with herself, and murmured a thanks before grabbing the beverage tray that held a 16-oz Coconutmilk Cascara Latte for Henry and a 16-oz Caramel Macchiato for her. The sight of the Sean-looking guy --- well, the back of him --- had shaken her more than she was willing to admit. But there were more important things that warranted her attention today, she told herself. She exited via the same door that the man had and was surprised to see him again. She still couldn’t get a good look at him, but he got behind the wheel of a dark grey Toyota Yaris and drove off. The car looked just like … just like Sean’s. 

If she had been closer to her own car, she would have tossed the beverages and followed him to find out where he was going and who he was. Instead, all she could do was watch his car drive two blocks away and disappear after making a right turn. 

vvvv 

“There you go,” Jo told Henry as she lifted his latte out of the tray and set it down on his desk in front of him. 

“Thank you,” he replied, smiling as he took hold of the cup. 

“Did Rennie cry again when you dropped him at daycare this morning?” she asked. 

“No, thank goodness,” he replied. “As soon as I put him down, he ran straight for the toy bin without a further thought to his old man,” he added, grinning. 

“Great. He’s finally getting used to being there,” she said. She then bit her lower lip while the tiny frown lines between her eyebrows appeared. 

Henry frowned a bit and tilted his head to the side as he eyed her. “Everything okay?” he asked. “You seem a bit distracted.” Very distracted. 

She lifted her hot coffee out of the tray, set it down near the edge of the desk, and sat down in one of the visitor chairs across from him. She removed the lid off the coffee and stirred it with the stirrer, then licked it and laid it on the cardboard tray. 

“I’m fine,” she replied. As soon as the words left her lips, she realized that she was doing what Henry had done before sharing his secret of immortality with her. What she had done after Sean’s death whenever anyone had asked how she was doing. Lying. Covering up. A deep sigh left her, and her apologetic gaze met his. 

“Sorry,” she said. Then she related her experience to him in the coffee shop. “It was just so odd seeing a guy who reminded me so much of Sean,” she explained. “Just wasn’t prepared for it. I --- “ 

“Jo, you don’t have to explain,” Henry assured her. “I can’t tell you how many times I thought I’d seen Abigail in a crowd, but it wasn’t her.” 

“But you said that was before you and I got together,” she pointed out. “You were heartbroken and missing her. Henry, I’m married to _you_ now; I love _you_.” 

He smiled and reached across the desk and squeezed her hand. “It was just a coincidence,” he assured her. 

"Quite a coincidence that he wore a suit similar to Sean’s, carried a worn-out briefcase similar to his and drove a car similar to his,” she noted. 

“Yes, those are surprising coincidences,” he told her, “but I’m very sure they are just that.” 

Jo chuckled a bit and shook her head. “Yeah, you’re right. A doppelganger. We’re all said to have one in the world somewhere,” she added. Deciding to dismiss the whole incident, she switched gears and began discussing another case involving the bodies of a homeless man and his German shepherd found in an abandoned warehouse on Gansevoort Street near the Hudson River. But Henry, adept at deflection, understood exactly what she was doing. Still, he felt no need to be alarmed. 

After only a few sips of their coffee, Lucas stuck his head in the doorway with a piece of paper in his hand. 

“Excuse me, guys,” he began, “but we got an answer back from The Purebred Registry folks about the homeless guy’s German shepherd.” Henry set his coffee cup aside and beckoned him forth. Lucas came in and handed the paper to him. “Seems your hunch about checking to see if the dog was registered with them was a good one.” Lucas then asked what made him think of doing that. 

“Just a hunch, Lucas,” he replied while studying the document. 

“Good thing for us that you know how to spot a purebred canine,” Lucas said, finding it hard to hide his deepening interest. “Have a … lot of experience with them?” 

Jo smiled and sipped coffee with her laughing eyes on Henry. 

“Well, there was a certain period in my life,” Henry confided, “when I worked as a veterinarian’s assistant with the Westminster Kennel Club here in New York City.” 

“You mean the dog show people?” Lucas asked, astonished and impressed. Henry nodded confirmation. “And you’re a vet, too, although it’s hard to imagine you as someone else’s assistant and not being in charge. But that’s cool,” he added, grinning and bobbing his head before returning to his workstation just outside the office. 

“Assistant?” Jo asked, skeptical. “That’s not what you told me.” 

Henry sighed and picked up his coffee again. “I thought it best not to fan the flame of the young man’s hero worship toward me.” Jo grinned and shook her head. “One day, I shall share that story with him. Just not now.” 

“Okay,” Jo said. “Back to the dog. What does it tell you about our homeless guy now that we know the dog was a purebred?” 

He took another sip of coffee and replaced the lid, setting it aside. He folded his hands in front him and replied, “That a homeless man could hardly have afforded the upkeep on such a well-bred, expensive animal.” 

“So, he wasn’t homeless,” Jo stated. 

“He certainly has the appearance of only recently being in that state,” he replied, “based on his dental work, manicure and pedicure, and generally good physical condition. He and the dog simply died from exposure during our recent cold snap.” He picked up the document and handed it to Jo. “The dog’s name is apparently Ranger. His owner’s name and photo are on that document, as well: Godfrey Wingard IV.” 

”Sounds like the name of a member of the upper crust,” she dryly remarked. “Of course,” she said as she read further. “His home address is on the Upper East Side, Carnegie Hill. Your old stomping grounds.” 

“I was merely a doctor who made house calls there,” he clarified. “After all, it was standard practice back then.” 

“At any rate, this will be a first. Seeing where a wealthy homeless guy lived,” she wryly remarked. “Care to join me?” She rose from her chair. 

“You already know the answer to that,” he responded. 

vvvv 

After a 15-minute drive over to the elegant 3rd Avenue dwelling and an even shorter interview with the deceased man’s older sister, Henry and Jo left and returned to their car, amazed and disgusted at the heartlessness of some people. They had learned, though, that the man suffered from bipolar and depression for several years and in the past few months, his behavior had become more erratic as his mental state had rapidly deteriorated. By the time his sister noticed that he had not been at home for nearly a week, she hired a private detective to find him. And that was only because the prized dog, Ranger, had also gone missing. It had become more and more exasperating to deal with her brother, she had viewed his absence more as a respite. But she valued the dog more because through its many trophies and awards, she had also won respect and admiration in the canine show community. 

“My siblings and I didn’t always get along and still don’t sometimes,” Jo said, a harsh edge to her voice. “But I would care if they went missing and for sure if they died! She wasn’t even going to come down and identify him and claim his body to give him a decent burial until you informed her how much the bill would be from the County. Maybe wearing three names like Marianne Wingard Simpson erodes your humanity.” She huffed out a sigh of disgust and unlocked the car’s door with her key fob. 

“Yes, her reaction to her younger brother’s death was disheartening,” Henry agreed, shaking his head. “She was more interested in the dog, Ranger, and giving him an elaborate send off.” 

“Quick! Get in the car!” Jo hurriedly told him as she jumped in behind the wheel. 

Surprised, he quickly did as she said. “Why the rush, dear?” he asked as he buckled up. 

“He’s here,” she whispered, pointing to the opposite side of the street. 

“Who’s here? Where?” Henry asked, confused. 

“Sean’s doppelganger!” she explained. She put the car in gear and made a sharp U-turn as she pulled away from the curb after the auburn-haired man in the dark grey car drove past them in the opposite direction. 

“Jo, don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Henry asked, furrowing his brow. 

“No, I don’t,” she replied, adamant. “This is the second time today that this guy just happens to be where I am. Don’t you think that’s suspicious? I’m gonna follow this rat to see what hole he crawls back into.” 

Henry swallowed his laughter and reminded himself that his wife was a topnotch detective with keen observation skills of her own. If she felt this man’s presence was suspicious, then he had to “get with the program” as Lucas and some of his other colleagues were prone to say. 

“My apologies. Lead on, M’Lady,” he told her. 

vvvvvvvv 

Information on purebred registry for dogs and cats found at https://www.purebredregistry.com 


	2. Another Sean Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little weirder and a little tenser in this chapter that ends sort of on a cliffhanger. Okay, a definite cliffhanger but not to worry. I wouldn't kill off our guys.

_“He’s here,” Jo whispered. “Sean’s doppelganger!” She then put the car in gear and made a sharp U-turn to follow the auburn-haired man when he drove past them in the opposite direction. “This is the second time today that this guy just happens to be where I am and I’m_ _gonna_ _follow this rat to see what hole he crawls back into.”_

vvvvvvvv 

The dark grey Yaris was a block ahead of them. Jo did her best to keep it in sight and not to use her siren for fear of giving themselves away. They followed him down 3rd Avenue just barely catching the green lights that allowed them to keep up with him. At the third light, however, the cross traffic was so thick that some of the cars continued to block the intersection when it turned green for her. None of the cars on either side of 3rd Avenue were able to advance. But just as the light turned yellow, a meat company’s box truck inched forward just enough to allow the Yaris and a couple of other cars ahead of them to scoot through the intersection before the light turned red and new cross traffic immediately streamed in front of them. 

Jo cursed and banged the steering wheel with both hands. She seethed and shook her head disappointedly as the Yaris grew smaller and disappeared into the thick traffic ahead of them. By the time the light turned green again, it was nowhere in sight. She cursed again and rerouted to return to the precinct. 

“You’ll get another chance, Jo. I’m sure,” Henry told her. He reached over and rubbed her arm to help calm her down. 

“It’s just that I don’t like being messed with like this!” She fumed and pouted as she drove. “You know this is a setup, don’t you?” 

Henry sighed. “I’m inclined to agree with you,” he said. “But a setup for what?” The whole thing was beginning to anger him, as well. He didn’t like seeing his lovely wife this upset. The thought of someone trying their best to manipulate her, angered him more. He’d been through something like this at the hands of Adam. If she wasn’t being gaslighted, she most definitely was being stalked. “We’ll return to the precinct and see if anything turns up on any of these, ah, traffic or surveillance cameras in this area,” he told her, twirling a finger around. 

Jo nodded and did her best to even out her breathing. Her hands trembled from anger and jangled nerves but she had calmed down considerably by the time they arrived at the precinct. She consoled herself with the fact that she had managed to get at least a partial license plate number. 

vvvv 

“What do you mean a Volkswagen Jetta?” Jo demanded. “I know it was only a partial but --- “ 

“Sorry, Jo,” Lacey told her. “Are you sure you got the partial off this Yaris you saw?” 

She hesitated before replying and then closed her eyes, groaning. There had been a Volkswagen Jetta right in front of her. “Look, um, can you pull up the traffic cams along that stretch of 3rd Avenue?” She told her the specific city blocks. “Let me know as soon as you come up with anything.” Lacey nodded in reply. 

“There was also, the license plate frame,” Henry told Lacey. “Across the bottom were the words, ‘I Plead the 2nd' and a picture of an assault rifle.” Lacey added that information to her notes and continued working. 

As they left the tech lab, Jo asked, “You could see that tiny writing from that distance?” 

“Not exactly,” Henry replied. “I’ve begun to see that license plate frame on several vehicles. Even seeing what looked like the assault rifle from that distance let me know it was most likely sporting that very same frame that has become so popular lately.” 

“Hmmm, one might say that you can see forever,” she joked. They both chuckled at that, both of them happy to see her good humor return. “Well, let’s hope it helps,” she said. 

Forty-five minutes later, Lacey approached Jo’s desk with the information for which she had waited anxiously. Jo thanked her and called Henry but he said he was tied up in the morgue with battling mortuaries claiming authorization to take charge of Godfrey Wingard’s body. He apologized for not being available to accompany her on this leg of the “investigation”. 

“That’s okay, Henry,” Jo told him. “Mike’s available.” She ended the call and looked over at her official partner at his desk, his eyebrows perked up at hearing his name. 

“Sure you want me pepperin’ in on whatever you and the Doc’s got cooked up?” he asked, teasingly. 

Jo smirked at him and rose from her chair. “C’mon,” she told him with a flick of her head. “You’re my official partner, anyway. And, for the record,” she pointed out, “Henry and I have not cooked up anything.” 

They reached the elevators and she pushed the down call button. While they waited, she filled him in on her encounters with her late husband’s doppelganger. Mike was at first, at a loss for words. 

“So --- we’re not chasing a murder suspect,” he said, confused. “Just … some guy who looks like Sean?” 

Jo hesitated before replying as she struggled to control her annoyance at what she felt was his dismissive attitude. “Fine. I’ll go by myself.” The elevator arrived and she stomped into it and punched the button for the lobby. Mike scooted in behind her. 

“No, I’m in,” he assured her. “I was just askin’. Let’s go check this guy out; see what he’s up to.” 

Lacey had tracked the Yaris from where they’d first spotted it and its mysterious driver on 3rd Avenue to a gas station on West 155th Street. They were both confident of being able to get credit card information on the guy, thus giving them a name and address. Even if he paid in cash, the station’s surveillance cameras should still be able to provide them with a clear image of him at the pumps. 

vvvv 

“A credit card slip-up,” Mike said with a grin as they left the gas station. “We got him now!” His brow wrinkled as he studied the image obtained from the store’s surveillance camera. “Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this guy was Sean.” 

“Yeah, a slip-up,” Jo echoed him as she drove to the address associated with the guy’s credit card. “Almost too easy, though. Why would he make sure to be seen by me, do his best to elude me, then … this?” she asked, referring to the information he’d left as a result of his gas purchase. 

“Jo, ya gotta think,” Mike prodded her. “Who would have it in for you? Some perp you helped send up but’s now been released? A jealous ex-wannabe boyfriend?” Someone connected to Sean’s death? He’d always had his own doubts about that but he had never shared them with her, not wanting to add to her pain of loss; and he didn’t want to do that now, either. His eyes dropped back down to the image he held in his hands. Stick to the real. No need to chase conspiracy theories … yet. 

Jo bit her lower lip and shook her head. “I don’t know, Mike. So many to choose from.” 

The names and faces of past convicted suspects crossed her mind including her former friend and would-be murderer, Dunn. Then there was her own criminal-minded father. But she dismissed the thought of him having the clout or the brains to pull off anything more than a failed bodega robbery that had resulted in the death of a security guard and for which he was now serving a life sentence at Ryker’s. Certainly … well, maybe not Adam. Although she was sure that he had his minions, things had remained pretty quiet on that front while he was still “on ice”, as Mike described it, in his waking coma. 

“This is it,” Mike announced. He perched the documents on the dashboard and unbuckled his seatbelt. He then hastily grabbed them and exited the car at the same time as Jo. “Can’t believe this,” he said as he looked at the house that matched the address associated with the guy’s credit card. He’d only been to Jo’s home in Washington Heights once, shortly before she had married Henry, but he remembered the façade which was a near-exact replica of this house on West 87th. “Whoever’s behind this doesn’t know who they’re dealin’ with,” he grumbled angrily. 

Jo swallowed as she studied the house's all too familiar façade. Granted, this wasn’t her old neighborhood but it had that red door. The same door over which she and Sean had disagreed. He’d wanted a deeper rust color but had bowed to her choice of red. Good memories won out over regrets but were quickly replaced with anger and determination. It obviously wasn’t the “rat hole” she had expected to find as the guy’s residence but she was still determined to find out what he was up to and who he was. “Let’s go,” she told Mike. 

After they climbed the stairs, Mike knocked on the door and loudly identified only himself. “NYPD! Open up, please!” he loudly repeated as he banged on the door. “NYPD! We’re comin’ in!” In a lowered voice, he leaned down to Jo and asked if they shouldn’t have a warrant. 

She smiled broadly and produced a hairpin from her coat pocket. “Got our warrant right here,” she whispered back. 

vvvv 

Back in the morgue, the confusion was eventually cleared up and the winning mortuary left with Godfrey Wingard’s remains. The representatives from the “losing” mortuary left reluctantly as they enviously eyed their rivals leaving with their coveted spoils. Henry scoffed since the haughtiness and greed of both parties reminded him of his son’s rivals in the antiques business, the Berkowitz brothers. 

“Whew! Glad that’s over,” Lucas said, shaking his head. “Vultures!” he growled. 

“Lucas, they deal with the dead just as we do,” Henry reminded him. 

“Yeah, but we’re doing something noble,” he contended. “We try to find out how they died and bring the perp to justice.” He wrinkled his nose and eyed the door through which they’d exited. “They just wanna make money off of ‘em.” 

Henry’s eyebrows flew up and he smiled softly, stopping himself from saying that their objective of providing a decent burial for people was just as noble for he didn’t want a drawn-out argument. “Point taken,” was all he said. His features took on a more pensive look as he released a sigh and pursed his lips. 

“How come you’re not out investigating something somewhere?” Lucas asked. 

He explained that he’d had to pass on doing so when Jo had called earlier because of the mortuary mix-up. Lucas noted that something like that usually only happened when there were warring family members trying to take control of the deceased and their estate. 

“This poor guy just had a sister who didn’t really care for him,” Lucas somberly added. 

“Yes,” Henry began, “you’re quite right.” The losing mortuary’s paperwork and their story failed to meet all of the requirements to have the body released to them. In fact, there was something downright fishy about them altogether. It was almost as if they’d put up just enough of an argument to prevent him from having accompanied Jo. He quickly decided to call her. “Lucas, I’ll be in my office for a while but I just might be leaving soon to investigate ‘something somewhere’ as you say.” 

vvvv 

Thanks to Jo’s improvised method of unlocking the entry door, she and Mike were able to get inside the house. Both of them were astonished at the lengths to which someone had gone in order to copy even the minutest detail of the interior of the home that she and Sean had shared. They walked slowly into the living room and gaped at the furnishings, the blonde wood of the shiny, hardwood floors, the bric-a-brac on the mantel above the fireplace, the photos of her and Sean! 

Jo marched over and reached out for the photo of the two of them smiling happily on the balcony of their room in the Taj Mahal Casino during their honeymoon. She remembered to use nitrile gloves to handle the photo. “How did these bastards get this?” she angrily rasped. Her first thought was to rip it out of its frame and destroy it. But she managed to rein in her anger and placed it back on the mantel just as she’d found it. 

“We should take that with us,” Mike suggested. “Examine it for fingerprints, DNA.” 

“Normally, I’d agree,” she replied. “But if anything’s missing from here, they’ll know we’re closing in.” And they’ll know that they’re getting to her. “I don’t want them to go into hiding; I want them caught.” She whipped out her phone and activated it to make a video recording of the living room and dining area. 

Mike did the same after he entered the kitchen but found both the refrigerator and cupboards empty. He snapped a picture anyway of what appeared to be a blood smear on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. He then opened an individual swath of clear tape and pressed it against the smear, successfully lifting up a sample that he carefully placed inside a vial so as to avoid the tape folding over on itself. 

“Up here, Mike!” Jo called down to him from the second floor. 

He leaped up the stairs two at a time with his gun drawn. “Where are you?” he called to her when he hit the landing. At the same time, he looked around at the small but bare multi-use room. Jo called out that she was down the hall in the first bedroom. He quickly joined her and lowered his gun when he found her standing in the middle of an empty room. 

“The other rooms are the same,” she said as she walked over to him near the doorway. “It seems almost like they either didn’t get a chance to finish duplicating each room of our old home or ---,” 

“They felt they didn’t need to,” Mike finished for her. “Just the first two rooms to lure us in and … do what?” he asked, confused. 

“Lure us in here and … I don’t know, provide me with a painful walk down memory lane,” she speculated. Mike walked out of the room and she heard him enter the bathroom just next to it. “Nothing in there but some funny little clock or timer stuck to the bathroom mirror," she called after him. Her phone rang and the Caller ID displayed H MORGAN OCME. She smiled and quickly answered, getting only as far as “Hey, Henry” before Mike rushed back into the room and yanked her out of the room by the arm. 

“Wha-what’s wrong?” she asked as they rushed down the stairs. 

“That is a timer,” he breathlessly explained. “For a bomb!” 

They rushed toward the door but found it locked. So, they both stepped back and fired their weapons, obliterating the lock and door handle. Just as they ran out and down the steps, a loud explosion erupted from within the house, the force of which threw them both to the ground. 

At the other end of the line, Henry had heard Mike yelling something about a bomb and their frantic rush out of the house. He’d gripped his burner phone with both hands and repeatedly shouted her name, to which he got no response. Next was what sounded like the first part of an explosion and then silence. He desperately tried to calm his fingers enough to contact Lt. Reece. They were in danger. Dear God, he prayed, don’t let it end this way. 

vvvvvvvv

Slight reference to "Forever" TV show 2014, S01/E13 Diamonds Are Forever.


	3. Another Sean Ch 3 By the Skin of Their Teeth

The impact of the blast had knocked Jo and Mike to the ground and they lay there stunned and unable to move for several moments. The ringing in their ears also continued for several more minutes after the EMT’s arrived to render aid to them. They did their best to calm their racing hearts and jangled nerves and gave thanks to the fact that they’d managed to survive, if only by the skin of their teeth. While the EMT’s cleaned their various scrapes and applied bandages, they also had their blood pressure taken. Cognition tests were simultaneously rendered to them when the EMT’s asked certain questions and requested they repeat a phrase. 

“The quick brown fox chased the quick brown rabbit,” they replied in unison and chuckled the tiniest bit at the absurdity of the phrase. 

At the sight of Henry, Reece, and Lucas as they bailed out of a squad car and rushed frantically over to them, relief spread throughout their bodies. The controlled panic on their faces slowly gave over to relief when they saw Jo and Mike perched on the back of an ambulance, both in one piece. 

“Mike covered me from the blast,” a thankful Jo informed a wide-eyed, breathless Henry as he held both of her hands in his and squeezed them. 

Mike stifled a groan as he stood up and examined his bandaged right hand. “Nah, I used her to break my fall,” he teased, his grin widening. 

Having none of it, Jo stated, “Look, if it weren’t for you recognizing that gadget to be a timer for a bomb … well, I hate to think of what would have happened.” She smiled gratefully at him again and he sheepishly dipped his head to the side, shrugging one shoulder up. 

“That could be the reason for the other mortuary’s presence,” Henry began, “to delay me accompanying you here in an effort to make sure you arrived alone.” 

Jo gingerly stood up with Henry’s help but realized that she couldn’t put her full weight on her left leg. Her face was inches away from Henry’s as they wordlessly reached the same conclusion: that the bomb had been meant for her and her alone. But why? As much as she wanted to, she stopped herself from falling into his arms and sobbing out her fears and frustrations regarding this situation. This was no time for tears, she told herself. Henry understood the unsaid between them and knew it was best for her to keep a detective’s mind concentrated on the situation. That they not allow their emotions to rule the day but to think this through methodically to uncover the culprit or culprits. 

Lucas blew out a contained sigh of relief as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Glad to see nobody’s --- He paused to swallow back ‘dead’ --- hurt.” 

“Yes, thank heavens for that,” Reece said, relief evident in her own voice. But she noticed how her two detectives were trying to steal away from the ambulance. “Inside, you two,” she told them. They began to protest but she motioned again for them to get into the ambulance. “Go and have a doctor look at you both before you do anything else. We’ll let CSU and the Bomb Squad handle things from here. In the meantime, get yourself checked out.” 

The two of them reluctantly obeyed. Henry and an EMT helped Jo up into the ambulance. Mike pulled the two pieces of evidence out of his coat pocket and handed them to Henry. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you,” he promised him. “See what you can come up with on those. Looks like blood to me.” Henry nodded and stepped back while Mike joined Jo in the ambulance and the EMT’s closed and locked the back door. 

It was hard for Henry to watch the emergency vehicle take his injured wife away without him, but he felt a strong need to pursue a hunch of his own. He turned to Lucas and passed the samples to him with instructions to get them back to the morgue and get them to the toxicology lab as soon as possible. 

“Tox report could take forever,” Lucas replied. “Excuse the pun.” 

“Not if a certain, female lab technician handles it,” Henry suggested with his head tilted away from him and his brows raised. 

“Inez?” Lucas groaned. “She’s not a certain female, she’s a horny bully! It’s embarrassing the way she always undresses me with her eyes,” he cringed as if in physical pain. 

“Lucas,” Henry began, “if it were you in the back of that ambulance, I would risk the same for you.” He turned his puppy dog eyes on him although he recalled with displeasure how even the prominent display of his wedding ring had failed to curtail the woman’s aggressive flirtatiousness. 

Lucas groaned again and closed his eyes, then opened them. “Okay, Doc. Throw the guilt trip on me,” he said resignedly. Reece asked Henry what he had up his sleeve. 

“I have a date with a mortician,” Henry cryptically responded. He bid the two of them goodbye and walked clear of the multiple police cars and hailed a cab to the Watkins Funeral Home on West 166th Street. 

Once he arrived, he paid the cab fare and entered through the glass doors into the funeral home. Inside, he was greeted by a personable young black man in his mid-20's. Not one of the men who had shown up in the morgue earlier and tried to claim Wingard’s corpse, Henry mentally noted. 

“May I help you?” the young man asked him in that most practiced and sympathetic undertaker’s voice. 

“Yes, I’m Dr. Henry Morgan of the OCME,” he replied. “Two of your colleagues paid me a professional visit earlier today when they tried unsuccessfully to take possession of the remains of a Mr. Godfrey Wingard IV.” 

The young man, DeVaughn Scales, frowned slightly. “I’m, uh, sorry but to the best of my knowledge, no one from this facility went to the morgue today.” He scoffed softly and added, “A rare occasion for us not to make a pickup today.” 

It was Henry’s turn to frown. He described the two men to him (one Caucasian, one middle Eastern, both in their early to mid-50’s) and DeVaughn denied that anyone meeting their descriptions was even employed there. “Are you sure you have the right funeral home?” he asked Henry. “People have a tendency to get us mixed up with Watson and Sons three blocks up.” 

“Quite sure,” he replied. But he was becoming less and less sure about this whole situation. The two were obviously imposters and most likely in cahoots with the fake Sean who’d been shadowing Jo. “Are you sure?” he asked DeVaughn. “There couldn’t have been a mix-up of any kind?” 

DeVaughn turned on his heel and urged him to follow him. He led Henry down a hallway into what was the office. He waited while the young man retrieved a large, brown binder and opened it to a page. He then gave it to Henry so he could see photos and short bios of himself, the owner, Oliver Watkins, and seven other employees. None of them came close to matching the two men who’d visited the morgue earlier claiming to represent the business. 

Henry set his jaw tightly and handed the binder back to him. “Perhaps I was mistaken about the name of the funeral home, after all,” he said. That wasn’t the case, though. “Thank you for your time.” 

vvvv 

It was several hours later when Jo, discharged from the ER of Presbyterian General, limped through the residential entry door at the back of the antique shop with Henry’s help and took the stairs one by one up to the second-floor living quarters. 

“Grrrr, I hate this; being so helpless!” she growled as they crossed through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Henry pointed out that she wasn’t exactly helpless, just practicing caution for the time being. “That’s easy for you to say,” she replied before settling down on the bed. “You’re not all bruised up and achy,” she moaned. 

He smiled as he kneeled down to take her shoes and socks off, stuffing one inside each shoe and setting them down in front of the nightstand. “Those discomforts shall gradually leave you, love,” he assured her. He helped her off with the rest of her clothing, folded them, and placed them on the hardback chair next to the nightstand. 

“And I feel old,” she said with a pout. “Like a genuinely old person,” she markedly clarified. She slowly stretched her legs out under the covers as Henry gently tucked her in. “Not fun.” A moment later, she rendered a condemnation of herself by saying, “I’m a big baby.” 

He chuckled softly and replied, “Hmmm, first you feel old and then you’re a baby.” She told him that he knew what she meant. “I know this isn’t fun for you, darling, but you’re _my_ big baby,” he reminded her with a soft smile. “And rest assured I’m going to take good care of you.” He then took the pillow from his side of the bed and gently placed it under her left knee then smoothed the covers back into place. 

Jo, tired out from the long, trying day, returned his smile with her eyes half-closed. “Thanks, honey.” 

“How about a little something to eat then your pain medication?” he asked her. “Jo? Honey?” He bent down and kissed her on the forehead then sat on the bed beside her. He brushed her hair away from her face and rested his palm on her cheek, realizing that she’d drifted off to sleep. 

“Later, then love.” After another kiss on her forehead and a touch of his to hers, he straightened up and left the room. He walked down the hallway into the nursery and stood next to Rennie’s crib. Tilting his head to the side as he smiled down at his little son, though careful not to wake him, he rubbed the back of his finger on his cherubic cheek and then held his tiny hand between two fingers. 

The Immortal dad then closed his eyes and heaved several breaths in and out as he thought how close their beautiful life together had been interrupted. He sent up a prayer of thanks again that Jo had only been shaken up and not permanently taken from them. Also, for Mike, who had recognized the danger and gotten the both of them out of that booby-trapped house quickly enough. “Sleep tight, my little man,” he whispered and kissed him on the forehead and touched his own to his. 

As he left the nursery, the light from the kitchen drew him in. There at the table was his elder son, sipping from a teacup. He planted a kiss on the top of Abe’s head and sat down in the chair next to him. 

“Hey, Pops,” Abe greeted him. “Join me in a cup?” 

Henry nodded and Abe poured him a cup and passed it to him. “I rather thought that after today’s events you would have opted for a stronger drink than tea.” 

“Well,” Abe drew out, “I’m trying it your way. Drinking something to calm my nerves instead of just dulling them.” He set the cup back down on its saucer and released a loud sigh. “It isn’t working, though.” He looked up at his father and painfully declared, “Geez, Dad. You and Jo have such dangerous jobs!” 

“Yes, Abraham, we have for quite a few years,” Henry agreed. “But what’s going on now is not like any other murder case we’ve investigated. Someone is trying very hard to …. to … kill her,” he finally managed to say, his voice trailing off. 

“No!” Abe said, slapping his hand down on the table. “Not gonna happen! That’s my stepmother they’re messin’ with and I’m not gonna let ‘em get away with it!” He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning and fuming. Then he shot a look at his father. “You’re not the only sleuth in the family. We’re gonna get these guys!” he declared with a squinty-eyed glare, jabbing a finger in the air to emphasize each word. 

vvvv 

In a Fremont Avenue apartment in the Bronx, a young man with flaxen blonde hair was engaged in a heated argument with two other men, who were a match for the two men that Henry had unsuccessfully hoped to find at the funeral home he’d visited earlier that day. The young man threw a stuffed duffel bag down on the floor at their feet. 

“What is that?” one of the men demanded. 

The young man unzipped it to reveal an auburn hairpiece, a wrinkled suit, and a worn briefcase inside. “This crazy sh&t they gave me to wear to prank that woman, who, coincidentally, is a New York city cop! How could I have let you two idiots talk me into doing this?” the young man growled. “Just a little acting job. Just a little prank,” he said sarcastically as he paced back and forth in front of them. 

“Keep your voice down!” one of them sat forward and urged him in a loud whisper. 

“No! I won’t be a party to murder!” he angrily replied. “She and that guy were almost killed!” He laughed mirthlessly and added, “If he was with her, that means he’s a cop, too.” He shut his eyes and shook his head. 

The other man stood up and tried to calm him down. “Nobody was killed. We didn’t know, either, that they were cops. Something just … went wrong, that’s all. I’m sure that that explosion had nothing to do with what we were hired to do,” he tried to assure the young man. 

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were,” he shot back at him. “I, I don’t want anything more to do with this. Tell your creepy friends they can keep their money. I’m through.” 

“What do you plan to do?” the whisperer asked, rising from his seat to stand near his companion. 

“Make myself scarce,” he replied. “And if you have any brains left, you’ll do the same.” 


	4. Another Sean Ch 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heated argument continues between the three men who thought they’d been hired to perform only as pranksters but escalates into something more life-threatening. Jo receives an unexpected visitor who may be able to shed some light on this troubling and confusing situation.

“Where will you go?” the man named Bertram Wills asked the young flaxen-haired man named Nils Sjoberg. 

“Oh, yeah,” Nils responded, sneering at them over his shoulder. “Like I’d tell you.” 

The whisperer, Saahir Kalimi, stepped forward with a look of pained concern on his face. “You’re an integral part of their plan, whatever it is,” he pointed out in a stronger voice. “Do you really think they’ll just let you walk away from this?” 

Nils slowly turned around to face them. “Your parts are finished,” he said accusingly. “My latest set of ‘scenario’ instructions came this afternoon.” 

“So, you are ---,” Saahir began before Nils interrupted him. 

“I tore ‘em up!” he roared at him. He stepped closer to them, his crystal blue eyes darkening under his twisted brow. “Know what I’m supposed to do next?” he asked them, his voice lowered but gruff with disdainful anger. “They want me to hang around where she lives so that ----.” Nils abruptly stopped speaking and calmed his features and appeared to ponder something. He eyed the duffel bag and walked back over to it. Saahir and Bertram eyed each other, encouraged by what they thought might be Nils’ change of heart. It would certainly spare them from having to explain anything to their murderous higher-ups. 

“It would be best if you simply continued to play along with them,” Bertram said. “They’ve shown what they’re capable of and we don’t want them upset with either of us,” he warned Nils. 

Nils eyed them both as if considering their words. “Do either of you know what this is all about? Why she’s being targeted?” 

Saahir opened his mouth as if to reply but Bertram beat him to it. “We have no idea. Believe me.” Saahir closed his mouth and lowered his eyes. 

Nils didn’t believe him. He looked from one to the other and then bent over to stuff the odd contents back inside the bag and zipped it up again. He grabbed the strap and slung it over his shoulder as he stood up again. “Guess I lost my head,” he told them in a calmer voice. “You’re right. Stick to the game plan and hopefully, nothing else like that explosion will happen again.” Saahir and Bertram both nodded, visibly more relaxed. Nils shifted his shoulder under the strap as he left the apartment. While he waited for the elevator, he became lost in thought. Once it arrived, he allowed a lone passenger to first disembark and then he boarded. His thoughts consumed him once again as he rode it down to the lobby and exited the building. 

Nils opened the back of his Yaris and threw the duffel bag inside then slammed the door shut. He then opened the driver's side door and got in behind the wheel but was careful not to slam the door shut. Careful, he cautioned himself. The car doesn’t even belong to you. Best to return it in one piece. 

The radio came on as soon as he started up the car to an oldies station playing “Games People Play”, an early 80’s hit by the Alan Parsons Project. 

“Perfect timing,” he said, chuckling. Then a thought crossed his mind, one that he felt should have been his first thought on how to get out of this mess. “The lady’s a cop. According to the news, she works at the 11th Precinct. They can help me,” he said out loud to himself. 

Suddenly energized by his decision, he put the car in gear and prepared to pull away from the curb. Just as he did, he had to slam on his brakes in order to avoid hitting a startled man who’d ran out in front of his car. The man looked at him and scowled darkly. Nils rolled down the window and stuck his head out to apologize and chide him to be more careful in the future. Not surprisingly, the man gave him a one-fingered salute --- it was New York, after all --- and darted across the street and got into his own car. Only mildly upset, Nils scowled back at him as he watched him get in his car and speed away. He realized it was the same man who’d gotten out of the elevator not ten minutes ago. He recognized him by his expensive track shoes ... and that phony beard. As phony as his Sean hairpiece. Nils assumed the guy had merely tossed it in his apartment and changed jackets. 

“Come in for just a few minutes and leave in a hurry,” he wryly noted as he drove away. “New York.” 

vvvv 

The sometimes-sensuous massage Henry had given Jo late last night with rubbing alcohol, had allowed her to enjoy a more peaceful slumber. The memory of his large, gentle but strong hands squeezing and rubbing every inch of her body last night, came back to her and caused her to stop and close her eyes with a pleasing smile. Each time she’d managed to catch his eye or glance at him as he worked on her, she could see how determined he was to soothe her aches and pains. His hands, on the more sensitive parts of her body, had given him as much pleasure as it had given her, she was sure since he had seemed to linger on them even longer than on her painful left leg. She closed her eyes again and laughed softly. Although he’d always said he’d been raised to be a gentleman, somewhere along the line of his long life, he’d learned how to be such a damn tease! 

After a soothing shower, since her left leg was now able to carry her full weight without pain, she dried off and slipped on some jogging pants and a jersey she’d purchased for Henry from the Hertford Cricket Club’s website shortly after they’d returned home from their honeymoon. She found herself in the kitchen reading a note left on the table from Abe and Henry. Abe urged her to remember to eat the breakfast being kept warm for her in the oven, that the shop was closed because he had a dental appointment, and that he would return by lunchtime. Henry’s part urged her to just rest as much as possible, that he and Abe would take care of Rennie. 

She smiled and shook her head, marveling at how blessed she was to have these three lovable guys in her life. Her eyes fell onto the note again and she read the last part that Reece had sent a car over to keep watch on her. She sighed and dropped the note back onto the table and retrieved the delicious breakfast of waffles, sausages, and scrambled eggs from the oven. She remembered to turn off the oven before settling down at the table. Just as she spooned fresh blueberries over the waffles, there was a knock at the shop’s door. 

“We’re closed,” Jo half-heartedly called out to the unknown visitor. “Read the sign. You’re disturbing my morning meal.” She calmly began enjoying her breakfast. 

“Hello-o-o-o!” she heard a voice call out. “Detective Martinez, are you in ther-r-r-re?” 

“Who in the world --- ?” She jumped up from her seat and froze, grimacing at the unexpected pain that shot up from the midpoint of the outside of her leg to her knee. “Not … a hundred ... percent,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. 

The pain, thankfully, quickly subsided and she was able to carefully descend the stairs. Once she was in the retail area, she saw a young blonde man peering in through the shop’s glass window with his hands cupped around either side of his face. Aware that he’d caught her attention, he waited for her to come forward and unlock the door. She pointed to the Closed sign instead. 

“It’s important, please,” he implored. She frowned at him, hesitating, and then relented when he said, “It’s about the explosion.” 

vvvv 

Earlier at Bertram’s and Saahir’s apartment … 

Bertram and Saahir discussed their recent encounter with Nils and debated if they had made the wisest decision of encouraging him to stay in the game or not. Whether it was wise for themselves to even remain in New York. 

“It’s not a game anymore,” Saahir whined. 

“I know … just … have to figure out what to do next,” Bertram told him. A knock at the door caused them to look expectantly at each other. “Don’t tell me, he came back!” he rasped as he quickly went over and opened the door. “Look if you --- oh. Thought you were someone else,” he told the visitor. “Come on in.” The heavily-bearded man with dark sunglasses on entered the apartment and stood in the middle of the living room. Bertram closed the door and stood next to Saahir again. “If it’s more instructions on this so-called prank, we’re no longer interested,” he tiredly told him. 

“Uh, no,” the man replied. “Just came to pay you.” 

Bertram and Saahir relaxed a bit and shared a smile then gaped at the man in horror. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a .9mm Beretta and aimed it at them. Before they could utter a word, he shot first Bertram, then Saahir in the center of their foreheads. He calmly replaced his gun as their lifeless bodies thudded to the floor. He pulled off the fake beard and mustache and then the sunglasses, stuffing them all in the pocket of his brown leather bomber jacket. He then pulled out a black beret from the other pocket. After he took off the jacket and turned it inside out to reveal a solid, light beige khaki fabric, he put it on and ran both hands over his hair before donning the beret. One last look at the two dead men seemed to satisfy him that his mission was accomplished and he left the apartment. Once outside the building, he paid little attention to the traffic and darted into the streets. A car pulled away from the curb and almost hit him, startling him. He made eye contact with the driver and noticed that he was the same man he’d passed when he’d offboarded the elevator upstairs. Momentarily, he froze but quickly realized that the driver couldn’t possibly recognize him since he’d altered his appearance. At that, he flipped him off, ran across the street, jumped in his car, and sped away thinking that this assignment was much easier than setting up that bomb that had missed its target. 

vvvvvvvv 

Information on firearms found at: 

[ https://www.brownells.com/firearms/handguns/index.htm ](https://www.brownells.com/firearms/handguns/index.htm)

Also had to make some minor corrections to this chapter (minor? always). I had completely forgotten that one of the men was middle eastern, according to Henry's encounter with the two fake mortuary workers. So, Stan Newsom got a name change to Saahir Kalimi. Websites for Algerian first and last names were consulted but mostly on wikipedia.


	5. Another Sean Ch 5 One Killer Caught

_Nils waited for Jo to come forward and unlock the shop’s door. She pointed to the Closed sign instead._

_“It’s important, please,” he implored. She frowned at him, hesitated, and then relented when he said, “It’s about the explosion.”_

vvvvvvvv 

Jo reached for the door but hesitated again. She eyed the unmarked car parked across the street that Reece had sent for her protection. She held up a finger to Nils and mimicked a smile as she pulled her cell phone out of her pants pocket. 

“Lieu, it’s Jo … No, I’m fine but we have a situation.” 

vvvv 

Less than 30 minutes later, Reece found herself in an interview room seated across from the young man they now knew to be Nils Sjoberg. She’d told Jo and Mike that they were too close to this case and that’s why she was questioning the suspect instead of them. But her own anger kept pushing her to just slap him! 

“Meet Sean’s doppelganger,” Jo wryly said as she stood three abreast with Henry and Mike on the other side of the glass. Neither she nor Mike was expected to be there but they both had insisted after Nils had shown up at the shop. 

“You put two New York City police detectives in danger,” Reece tersely told Nils as she struggled to control her anger and annoyance. 

“I had no idea that that would happen,” he replied, genuinely remorseful. 

“Do you realize the distress you put one of my detectives through by impersonating her dead husband??” she pointedly asked Nils. 

Nils sighed and lowered his eyes. “No. But I do now.” He pressed his lips together and heaved a deep sigh. 

“What was the purpose of all this?” Reece asked, softening a bit. 

Nils sheepishly explained what little he knew. “It was supposed to be just a prank,” he explained. “Like a practical joke, they told me.” He continued by telling of having worked in small theater with Bert and Saahir since the age of 15. “One day they called me and said they’d recommended me to play this part and shadow a woman for a few days.” He looked apologetically at Reece again. “Sounded like … harmless fun. A working car and the $5,000 didn’t hurt, either.” 

“Did either of them place the bomb that nearly killed my detectives?!” Reece angrily rasped at him. 

Nils bowed his head with his hand on his forehead. He then lowered his hand and leaned back. “The ones who hired me, I guess.” 

“Who … would that be?” Reece asked, folding her hands and tilting her head to the side. Although she appeared calm, she was still keeping a rein on her anger. 

“You’ll have to ask Bert and Saahir,” Nils replied, shaking his head. “I never met who hired us.” 

“How can we reach them?” Reece asked with an eyebrow quirked up in annoyance. 

Realization dawned on Henry and he said, “They must have been the same two men who posed as mortuary workers and kept me in the morgue long enough ... so that I couldn’t accompany you yesterday,” he told Jo. He looked at Mike and added, “Whoever placed the bomb probably didn’t count on you or anyone else being with Jo, either.” 

The three of them dealt with their own emotions as they mulled that troublesome fact over in their minds, realizing that the situation could have ended up much worse and thankful that it hadn’t. 

Nils provided contact information for the other two amateur thespians and Reece ordered a car sent over to their apartment when phone calls to both of them went to voicemail. She then instructed the uni near the door to take Nils down to Holding and she left the room to join her three colleagues in the hallway. They discussed what they’d learned from Nils as they walked back toward the bullpen. 

vvvv 

Reece had chosen to wait in her office while Bert and Saahir were being rounded up and Mike had chosen to wait at his desk. Jo, on the other hand, had decided not to wait at hers. She wasn’t officially supposed to be there, anyway. But mostly she wanted to avoid the sympathetic, furtive glances and smiles from the others in the bullpen. For much that same reason, Henry had suggested that they wait in the morgue’s break room. While they sat and nursed two piping hot cups of coffee, her cell phone finally rang. 

“Yeah, Lieu.” A cloud of dismay cast over her face as she listened for a few moments to Reece on the other end of the call. “Lieu, I’m, uh, putting you on speaker,” she told her. “Can you repeat what you just told me? Henry’s here, too.” 

Reece repeated that officers had found Bert and Saahir dead with gunshot wounds to the head. “They say it looks like a hit,” she told them. 

Reece and her colleagues were surprised and disappointed to learn of a possible lead falling through. She hurriedly made her way to where Nils was being held and gave him the news. 

Nils covered his face with his hands at finding out about his friends’ violent deaths. “I … I was … just there a little while ago,” he said, his voice cracking. He lowered his hands when Reece asked if he’d seen anything suspicious or if anyone else had visited them while he was there. 

“No, it was just the three of us ….” His voice trailed off as his brow knitted. “Wait, uh, I don’t know if it’s suspicious or not but … there was this guy with an obviously fake beard who’d gotten off the elevator right when I was leaving.” Reece said nothing but her eyebrows flew up, letting him know that she was waiting to hear more. 

“You learn to spot things like that after years in stage plays and summer stock,” he explained. “And those expensive track shoes of his. Things were kind of off-kilter with him. But when he came out of the building after only a few minutes, I almost hit him with my car and he looked right at me; flipped me off like I did it on purpose. But he had no beard. Different jacket. And … a silly beret,” he said with a slight chuckle. When Reece asked if he could work with their Forensics Artist (FA) to give them a picture of the man, Nils nodded. “Sure. Anything I can do to help.” 

vvvv 

“Damn! He’s a badge,” Mike grumbled under his breath. He and Jo peered at the computer screen over the shoulder of the FA. 

“At least, he used to be,” Jo said. She squinted and bent forward a bit to read the screen. “Morris Collins; 12 years on the job, his last four with the … bomb squad.” She straightened up and shared a knowing look with Mike. “I think we just ‘met’ our would-be killer.” 

“Send that to me,” Mike instructed the FA. He then spun around on his heels and began marching toward the elevators with a concerned Jo right behind him. His determined strides fueled by anger and urgency made it difficult for her to keep up with him, especially with her left leg still not completely pain-free. 

“Where are you going?” she demanded once they reached the elevators. She watched him punch the down call button with the side of his fist. 

“Where do ya think?” he tersely returned. “Goin’ to get this guy and drag him back here by his ---.” 

“Mike!” she quickly interrupted him. “We are not supposed to be directly involved in this. You’re too hot-headed right now,” she told him in a lowered voice laced with desperation. She didn’t want her partner to go and do something that he would regret for the rest of his life. 

“Look, Jo,” he began, “this guy nearly took the both of us away from our family, our kids.” He took in a couple of breaths before adding, “Now, I promise it’ll be by the book. We want, we need answers from this guy.” 

“What will I tell Lieu?” she asked. 

“Just stall, give me some time,” he said. “But in the meantime, dig into this guy. Find out what you can on him so we’ll know why he did this.” 

“Okay,” she reluctantly replied. As he entered the elevator and punched the down button, their eyes met and she added, “By the book.” Meaning don’t do something stupid, which this was already stupid, so don’t do something stupider. He gave her a “Who, me?” look as the doors closed. She smiled involuntarily and shook her head but his words came back to her: Dig into this guy. Okay, she told herself. Whether she was supposed to be on the job or not, she headed to her desk to do just that. 

vvvv 

Upon hearing the news of Bert and Saahir’s deaths, Henry and Lucas had immediately left to study the crime scene and have the bodies brought back to the morgue. In Henry’s opinion, the Lieutenant and the officers who’d first discovered their bodies had correctly concluded that the two men were the victims of a hit. The fact that there appeared to have been no struggle indicated that they may have known their killer. To further that theory, their wounds appeared to have occurred at a very close range. 

“They had to have been less than six feet away from the shooter,” Henry told Reece. He and Lucas, now back in the morgue, had examined both of the bodies. She stood on one side of the examining table that held Bert’s body while the two ME’s stood on the other side. 

“Which means that some of the blood spatter would have gotten on the killer,” she said. 

Henry nodded and continued. “Blood spatters created from gun-shot wounds depends upon the type of gun used; the area on the body that has been hit; the depth of penetration of the bullet; and the distance between the fired gun and the victim. Close range shots to areas like the head, neck, and heart tend to create the fastest traveling blood at the point of impact.” The weary but amused look on her face told him to curtail the lecture. 

“But … you already know this,” he sheepishly conceded with an apologetic smile. 

Reece’s smile erased the weary look off of her face. “It’s alright, Doctor,” she told him. “I can imagine that after all your years of accumulating God only knows how much knowledge, you do need to let it bubble over from time to time or you’ll probably burst.” 

Lucas drew his lips in and bit down on them as his eyes bounced from his closely-hugged clipboard to Henry then Reece then back. Henry felt it best to continue voicing his findings. 

“Mr. Wills was shot first, then Mr. Kalimi. From the angle of the entry wounds, the killer stood at least three to four inches taller than their 5’7” heights.” 

Reece studied the printout she’d gotten from the FA. “That matches with our suspect’s height.” 

Suspect, Henry thought. The person who had tried to kill his wife and her partner, his friend. His anger and the feeling of having been spared a climactic loss rose up inside him again. 

“Doctor?” 

The Lieutenant’s voice of concern brought him out of his gloomy thoughts. “Sorry,” he said. “Ah, we, that is, Lucas noticed a pattern on the carpet leading from the door and to the point where the killer most likely stood and then back to the door."

Reece frowned slightly and tilted her head. 

“Lucas realized that they were imprints from the soles of a very expensive set of sneakers,” he explained. “We were able to obtain a plaster mold of that pattern and we matched it to a size 10 Balenciaga men’s track sneakers.” He smiled at Lucas and dipped his head. 

Lucas perked up and squared his shoulders. “Oh, uh, they can only be purchased from Saks Fifth Avenue either in-store or online.” Lucas shook his head and muttered, “Too expensive for my blood. Hitmen make more money than me.” At Henry’s and Reece’s appalled looks, he attempted to dig himself out of a hole. “B-but I make … honest money. Blood free. Well, not exactly blood free ---.” 

“Lucas,” Henry gently urged. 

Lucas nodded deeply and clamped his lips together. 

vvvv 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the BOLO Reece had issued for Collins to successfully produce results. 

“He was nabbed on 95 headed across the GW Bridge to Jersey,” Mike said as a handcuffed Collins was hustled past them and taken into an interview room. He, Jo, and Henry, all glared at him as he passed by them. Mike wished that he had been able to get his hands on him first but realized that such an encounter might have jeopardized his continued employment with the NYPD. 

Henry’s thoughts ran along the same lines as Mike’s did but he knew that gathering evidence against Collins would serve their needs better than strangling the man or beating him to a pulp. After all, he’d long ago abandoned the Hippocratic Oath of “First, do no harm” back in the 50’s. Jo was just glad that her two favorite crime-solving partners were still there with her as they stood once again on the other side of the glass while Reece interviewed Collins. 

“Your guys are kinda rough,” Collins harshly noted, gently fingering a bruise with a deepening red color on the side of his left eye. 

“Guess they don’t like their fellow officers targeted with explosives,” she returned. “Especially from a former badge.” 

Collins lowered his hand and leaned back in his chair while he averted his gaze from hers. “I got nuthin’ to say.” 

Reece laid out the charges he was looking at including attempted murder of two law enforcement officers, conspiracy, and the double homicide of Wills and Kalimi. 

“Still got nuthin’ to say,” he told her. “But you got nuthin’ on me.” 

Reece then laid out the evidence compiled against him including the reversible jacket he'd worn that contained blood spatters from the two murdered men, the pattern of the soles of his sneakers having matched the pattern found on the carpet in their apartment. “Fibers from that carpet were found embedded in the soles of your sneakers.” The usually stoic and composed woman rose from her chair and walked around to the other side of the table and stood next to Collins. 

“Our guys are going over your apartment with a fine-toothed comb. What happens when we find that murder weapon and match the bullets that killed Wills and Kalimi to it? What do you think we’ll find on your computer and/or your cell phone? Maybe a hit list of past and future victims. Maybe detailed plans to support your expertise in building bombs. Just like the one that almost killed our two detectives.” She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of his shirt in front of his throat and forced him to look at her. “You did it, didn’t you!” she yelled at him. He tried to look away, to get out of her grasp but she jerked him and made him look at her again. 

“Your bank records are already revealing some interestingly large deposits,” she smugly said. “I assume those are payments for a hard day’s work of killing someone. And don’t worry; you can sit there and ‘remain silent’ all you want --- “ she was interrupted when Collins’ lawyer breezed into the room. 

“Lieutenant!” Cloris Bynes loudly stated. “You can’t question my client without my presence!” 

Ignoring Bynes, Reece continued grilling Collins. “Your silence won’t save you!” Reece yelled at him. 

“Lieutenant!” 

“Your shady lawyer won’t save you!” 

“Honestly, Lieutenant!” Bynes, the first African-American woman to not only be a West Point Cadet _and_ a Rhodes Scholar, took great exception to Reece minimizing her credentials. It was her business if she chose to use her talents to represent individuals with less than stellar reputations. They paid her fees much better than poor clients did. 

“Honestly?” Reece asked, turning her full attention to Bynes, a sellout in her eyes. “Tell your client that it’s best he tells us what we want to know so at least he won’t go down alone for all this.” She looked at Collins again. “You go to prison and the big boys stay free. Is that really what you want? Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t ever want to be an ex-cop serving time in prison.” 

“This harassment of my client has gone far enough, Lieutenant,” Bynes warned Reece. “I’ve arranged bail for you,” she told Collins. “We can leave now.” 

“Leave, if you like, Mr. Collins,” Reece began. “But what makes you think that the people who hired you to kill those two men won’t hire someone else to permanently silence you?” 

Collins, for the first time, looked directly into Reece’s eyes and despite the assurances of his attorney that he could leave and that Reece was “full of it”, his façade of smug indifference finally began to show some cracks. 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Police jargon and codes for murder found on various sites including wikipedia 

Information on blood spatter from gunshot wounds found in an online article entitled, “Blood Spatter Analysis Part 4”, dated May 12, 2013 by Lara, a graduate in Criminology. [ https://mycrimestudies.wordpress.com ](https://mycrimestudies.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/blood-spatter-analysis-part-4/#:~:text=Blood%20spatter%20created%20from%20gun-shot%20wounds%20depends%20upon%3A,fastest%20travelling%20blood%20at%20the%20point%20of%20impact.)

Information on expensive men’s track shoes found at [ https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/balenciaga-track-sneakers ](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/balenciaga-track-sneakers/product/0400011955831?site_refer=CSE_MSNPLA:Mens_Shoes:Balenciaga&CSE_CID=M_Saks_PLA_US_Men%27s+Shoes:Sneakers&gclid=CKHProrQwOoCFYqOxQIdtd8CMA&gclsrc=ds)

I got the idea to add the short description for Cloris Bynes from the true life experience of Daine Van de Wall, the first West Point cadet and member of Class of 2020, to also be named a Rhodes Scholar. [ https://www.military.com/daily-news/2019/12/02/meet-only-west-point-cadet-be-named-rhodes-scholar-year.html ](https://www.military.com/daily-news/2019/12/02/meet-only-west-point-cadet-be-named-rhodes-scholar-year.html)


	6. Another Sean Ch 6 Nils Spills the Beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collins surprises Reece by choosing not to cooperate. Jo makes some startling discoveries but since she and Mike are off the case, she has to find a way to share the information with Reece without jeopardizing the case. Lucas makes a surprising discovery of his own and Nils shares more with Team Morgan.

_“What makes you think, Mr. Collins, that the people who hired you to silence Wills and_ _Kalimi_ _won’t hire someone else to silence you permanently?” Reece asked._

_For the first time, he looked directly into Reece’s eyes and his façade of smug indifference finally began to show some cracks._

_vvvvvvvv_

Lt. Reece, initially encouraged that Collins would break and offer up his co-conspirators, exhaled in frustration as he instead left the interview room with his attorney, Cloris Bynes. It didn’t help her mood any when Bynes flipped her long braids over her shoulder and shot her a look savoring her victory. Reece took a moment to cool down then left the interview room and joined her colleagues in the hallway. 

“Really thought you had him, Lieu,” Jo told her. 

“He doesn’t want to be a snitch,” Mike scoffed, his indignance showing as he repeated what Collins had said. 

Henry asked if Collins would be tailed and Reece replied, “Absolutely. Eventually, he’ll slip up and we’ll close in on him and his cohorts.” She eyed Jo and then Mike. “Go home, you two. Take a couple more days off and come back,” she told them over their protests. “Henry, Lucas, and I can handle things in the meantime.” 

While Jo and Mike were disappointed at having been banished from not only the case but the precinct, Henry was pleasantly surprised that his young assistant was officially named by the good Lieutenant to help in the investigation. He smiled at the thought of what Lucas’ reaction would be after hearing the news. Ten minutes later, the two detectives had left the precinct and Henry found himself in the morgue with an exuberant Lucas. 

“Wow.” Lucas took great effort to ramp his gleeful excitement down and cleared his throat. “So. The scumbag walked. What do we do to yank him back in, Big Guy?” 

Henry fought against rolling his eyes and replied, “First, we go over all of the evidence. For instance, the carpet fibers embedded in the soles of his sneakers was a good find. However, it is only circumstantial, as his attorney pointed out because that particular type of carpet can be found in many of the apartments in the building where our two victims resided. It would help to find something to connect those fibers to their apartment and theirs alone.” 

Lucas opened his mouth to speak then closed it, his eyes darting back and forth. “Wouldn’t the jacket with blood on it from both of the victims work to nail him?” he asked. Then a thought crossed his mind. “Ahhh, this is a teaching moment for me, isn’t it?” 

“You’re absolutely right on both counts, Lucas,” Henry replied with a broad smile. “But we want to be as thorough as possible when handling any piece of potential evidence. What if something were to happen to the jacket? We will have wasted an opportunity to ‘nail’ him, as you put it, with yet another piece of solid evidence.” 

“Gotcha,” Lucas said, bobbing his head up and down. “You can count on me.” 

vvvv 

In the sitting area above Abe’s Antiques, Jo sat on the settee with Abe's laptop on the coffee table, a yellow, legal-size notepad on the left of it and a cup of English tea on the right. Abe longed to be with her upstairs but he was so busy keeping up with lucrative sales that he couldn’t. He was glad to have her safe at home, though, so that she could rest up more from her close brush with death. Again. The thought fleetingly crossed his mind that wouldn’t it be a kick in the head if she had died and rebirthed like Dad? No, he told himself. Don’t even wish anything like that for her or anyone else. Dad was only able to be dealing well with his condition because he was now married to the wonderful woman and because of little Rennie. And himself, he liked to think. 

The final sale of the day was completed and Abe noted that it was a little after 6:00 PM. The satisfied customer had left with a French Automaton Industrial clock in the shape of a black locomotive trimmed in gold. He closed up the shop then ambled up the stairs to check on the baron of beef that Jo had earlier placed in the oven. 

“Henry should be home soon with the little man,” he told her as he joined her on the settee. “No luck, huh?” he asked, knowing that she was continuing her online search for anything that connected Morris Collins to Nils or the two murder victims or … the mastermind behind all of this. The look of disappointment on her face told him that she hadn’t had any luck. 

“Au contraire mon frere,” she said, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. 

“Oh, we’re French now?” he teased. 

She leaned back and looked at him, releasing a heavy sigh. “This has just gotten so much worse, Abe.” 

Abe’s brow knitted and he asked, “So, you found where the trail leads from Collins to Mr. Big?” 

“Yeah. I did,” she said, her tone shaky and just above a whisper. 

“But instead of being happy, you look like you’ve just lost your best friend.” 

“Well … hard to be happy when you find a messy trail that leads to one of the most respected men who ever served on the force.” 

vvvv 

“Former Police Commissioner Ennis McLoughlin is somehow involved,” Jo told Henry. She’s seen things like this before. An elaborate labyrinth of a financial trail in order to cloud someone’s criminal dealings. 

“Hard to imagine how a debased man such as Morris Collins would even be associated with that legendary fellow,” Henry said, frowning in disappointment. He recalled reading often about McLoughlin, the only NY City PC to serve three separate terms off and on beginning in 1996 and ending in 2012 when he’d retired after 48 years in law enforcement. His sendoff had also been one of the most memorable events in early 2013 and had even sparked rumors of him making a possible run for political office. 

“I’m just as disappointed as you are,” Jo replied. “Lieu won’t want to hear from me on this and she sure as heck won’t believe that you used a computer, Henry, to dig up anything on anybody, let alone McLoughlin.” 

“Exactly how were you able to connect Morris to the former Commissioner?” Henry asked her. 

“Mmm, wasn’t really that hard,” she replied. “I just did a little reverse engineering on some of the larger transfers into his account and all this other stuff popped up. Each of the transfers was made from a bank in the Cayman Islands which had originated from a dummy corporation named Standard Reserve which is one of several small companies --- also most likely bogus --- owned by The McLoughlin Charitable Trust.” 

“A money laundering scheme,” Henry said. 

“Correct,” she replied. “And get this --- the timeframes between Morris having received at least three of the money transfers, matches up with someone on a list we found on his laptop who either wound up dead or went missing. I’ll bet we could match some of our Jane or John Doe’s to some of the names on that hit list.” 

“Amazing,” Henry said, clearly impressed at his wife’s investigative skills even while disappointed in the former PC. 

“How do you propose we share your findings with the Lieutenant?” Abe asked. 

“We?” his parents echoed in unison. 

“Well, you did use my laptop to uncover the scheme,” he pointed out to Jo. 

“Um, I thought it best not to use my own for obvious reasons,” she sheepishly admitted to Henry. 

Henry sighed and looked back and forth between Abe and her. “We --- and I do mean Jo and I --- will determine just how and when to share this information with Lt. Reece.” 

Abe huffed and resumed eating the rest of his dinner. “My laptop,” he grumbled to himself. “Should count for something.” 

vvvv 

The next morning, Henry took a cab to drop little Rennie off at daycare, then had the cab drop him off at the precinct. As soon as he walked into the morgue, Lucas informed him that Lt. Reece wished to see him in her office as soon as possible. 

“Hmmm,” he started. “Before I leave, have you made any progress on those carpet fibers?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Lucas replied. “Yeah.” He opened a manila folder on his workstation, revealing a report, and handed it to Henry. “Blood.” Henry gave a satisfied nod but waited for him to continue. “Both of the victims’ blood but it’s what was in the blood: Meth.” 

“Meth?” Henry repeated, incredulous. 

“Crystal meth in some of the fibers that were embedded in the soles of Collins’ sneakers,” Lucas explained. “Almost as if it had been spilled and the cleanup job missed a lot of it.” 

Henry’s eyes roamed over the report and then closed it, frowning. “They were users.” Lucas shrugged a shoulder up and shook his head. “Ordinarily, I would chalk those findings up to them simply having been users but …” Now that he knew what Jo had uncovered regarding the money laundering scheme connected to the former, revered PC … 

“This could have wider implications than we’d ever anticipated,” he said. “Let’s have another look at their bodies before we share this with the Lieutenant.” Lucas grinned and nodded and left to bring the bodies back into the morgue. 

vvvv 

Two hours later, Reece walked up to the Holding cell to question Nils. Anxious to be released, he jumped up from the metal bench upon which he’d passed the most uncomfortable night of his life and walked over to face her, his hands on the cell bars. 

“Have you come to let me out?” he asked anxiously. 

“Not yet,” she replied. “Do you know anything about the meth in your friends’ apartment?” 

Nils took in a deep breath and hesitated before replying. “I … guess I knew they … were users.” He frowned and gripped the bars harder. “What does that have to do with them getting their brains blown out?” 

“It may have everything to do with who hired their killer and who paid for you and them to perpetrate a hoax on one of our detectives and our ME. Do you have any idea where they got their meth from?” 

A smile failed on his face and he swallowed as he cast his eyes downward but gripped the bars even harder. “Don’t … make me tell.” He raised his troubled gaze to meet hers of stone. “A lot more people, including you, could get hurt. Best to leave those people alone.” 

Reece had watched him closely with her arms crossed. She lowered them and leaned closer to him. “Not in my DNA to leave criminals to do whatever they want,” she informed him. “This whole thing started out, in your words, to be a prank. It quickly escalated to attempted murder, a double homicide, and possibly more victims if I look the other way and pretend that none of this happened!” She leaned back and crossed her arms again. 

“Now, you’re gonna tell me what you know or I’ll throw the book at you so hard it’ll make your head spin!” Man, she’d been wanting for so long to say that to a suspect or hostile witness. Felt good to be on the front lines again workin’ a case. “So, what’ll it be? A trip over to Rykers before being hauled up in front of a judge on obstruction of justice, withholding evidence, accessory to murder ---” 

“Alright, alright, alright!” a flustered Nils shouted. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.” 

vvvv 

Nils waived his right to an attorney and gave a videotaped confession to his part in the scheme in which he’d impersonated Jo’s late husband, Sean Moore. “It was some kind of payback for him having threatened McLoughlin with a subpena shortly before he … before he died.” 

Reece: “Did McLoughlin have anything to do with Sean Moore’s death?” 

Nils: “As far as I know, he died of a heart attack.” 

Reece: “Have you ever met McLoughlin?” 

Nils: “No.” 

Reece: “How did you receive payment for your acting job?” 

Nils: “Bert and Saahir. They gave me an envelope with $2,000 cash in it, the keys to the Yaris I now drive, and a letter with instructions on when and where to, to, go to, to be to make sure that lady detective would see me and … maybe freak out. Seems somebody had a bone to pick with her, too; but I don’t know why.” 

Reece: “You told us earlier that you agreed to do this for $5,000 and the car.” 

Nils: “The letter contained a promise to pay $3,000 more at a later date. I just had to follow the instructions that turned up in my mailbox every day. And … there was a small, brown paper package tied up with twine in the back of the car. They placed it under the mat where the spare tire and jack were.” 

Reece: “A package. What did it contain?” 

Nils: “… Meth (a deep sigh). “I guess I knew --- okay, I know it was wrong to accept that but my own car had conked out so I sold it to the junk man. And I was behind in my rent. My job at Standard Reserve was only part-time. The money and the car were hard to turn down.” 

Reece tossed a few more questions at him but it seemed that he’d provided all he could including a puzzling statement regarding his job duties at Standard Reserve. 

Nils: “I only worked there Monday through Wednesday. They never had many visitors and appeared to do most of their business online. One office door was kept locked. I thought it was kinda weird but the work was easy, almost nonexistent. And the office was nice on the 14th floor on Madison Avenue.” 

The questioning finished, she had him taken back to Holding and she joined Henry and Lucas in the hallway. For Henry, it was a common occurrence but Lucas worked hard to contain his enthusiasm at being included in “the walk” with Reece back to the bullpen. Once they reached Jo’s and Mike’s empty desks, she turned and looked at Lucas. 

“Mr. Wahl, I’d like for you to help Dr. Morgan find out all there is about this Standard Reserve company. I want to know everything.” 

Henry fought against a broad grin as Lucas squared his shoulders and cleared his throat before he replied, “Yes, Lieutenant. You can count on us.” 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Information on money laundering found at www.investopedia.com/terms/m/moneylaundering.asp 

Mr. Big or the Mastermind behind all of this was inspired by something I read on the Internet about a real person named Patrick T. Sullivan. 

“Patrick T. Sullivan was a respected cop in the county of Arapahoe and was held in such high regard that the county had a local correctional facility named after him in 2002. This was after he won the prestigious award of the National Sheriff’s deputy of the year in 2001. 

But after his retirement in 2002, Patrick felt an attraction to the other side of the world. After serving 30 years as a cop, and still landing a job in Colorado’s legislative task force, after his retirement, the shrewd cop decided to dive into the world of meth. This was a secret that he managed to keep only to himself, but not for long. 

After the local cops got wind of the devious activities being done by the once-respected cop, they decided to set up a trap for him. Since Patrick had developed a taste for male brothels where he would trade meth for some good time, the police sent an informant who managed to record a whole trading session where Patrick begged the undercover police for some “background activities” after he traded some meth. 

Sadly, he found himself getting a jail-time itinerary in his own correctional facility after being nabbed in 2012. 

[ s://www.theclever.com/15-crimes-people-wont-believe-committed-police/ ](https://www.theclever.com/15-crimes-people-wont-believe-committed-police/) " 

So, you kind of see in which direction this is leading in my hunky-bunky way. A fallen hero like Sullivan and a touch of Bernie Madoff. But what did Jo ever do to cross these jerks? We’ll see. 

Information on antique clocks found at [ https://rauantiques.com/collections/clocks/products/french-automaton-industrial-locomotive-clock?variant=34446735540359 ](https://rauantiques.com/collections/clocks/products/french-automaton-industrial-locomotive-clock?variant=34446735540359)


	7. Another Sean Ch 7 Enter the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reece, Henry, and Lucas close in on the mastermind behind the money-laundering scheme fueled by drug trafficking. In the meantime, Jo is confronted by said mastermind in her own home. Will she and Abe survive?

Before Henry and Lucas parted ways with Lt. Reece, they told her about the carpet fibers embedded into the soles of Collins’ sneakers along with Meth and the blood of both victims. They also told her that their re-examination of the corpses of Wills and Kalimi showed only trace amounts of Meth in their systems. 

“Possibly because they got excited and spilled it before they could use all of it,” Lucas ventured. “I know if somebody dropped a Christmas in July package like that on me ---.” He stopped abruptly and carefully chose his next words. “It would definitely freak me out, too, s-since I’m not a user.” Their expressions of controlled amusement made him add, “Really. I’m not.” 

“Of course, you’re not,” Henry said with a slight smile, patting him on the arm. “Lieutenant, we’ll be in the morgue if you need either of us.” 

Once at his desk, Henry picked up the phone to call Jo about Reece having directed Lucas and him to delve into the workings of the Standard Reserve company but then he thought better of it. She and Mike were off the case and he shouldn’t be discussing anything with her. So, he would have to let Lucas take the lead in doing the research and not let on about his own prior knowledge stemming from Jo’s research the day before. Besides, he believed that Lucas’ computer skills might be a bit more stellar than his lovely wife’s. But he would never be so foolish as to let either of them know that. For the next three hours, Lucas executed online searches and pulled up much the same information about Standard Reserve that Jo had. Henry checked on him and his progress periodically but mostly remained at his desk. 

“Think that’s all of it,” Lucas said as he brought a pile of papers into Henry’s office and gave it to him. While his boss read over the documents, Lucas continued. “It seems that some guy named McLoughlin, who’d had more than one turn at being New York’s Police Commissioner, started a charitable trust a few years before he retired. Standard Reserve is just one of several small companies being funded by the trust. Only problem is, they look more like dummy corporations.” The information Lucas had uncovered, basically matched up with what Jo had uncovered. 

“Good job, Lucas,” Henry praised him. He looked up at him and said, “I’ll take these papers up to the Lieutenant right away.” He paused after he stood up then handed the papers back to Lucas. “On second thought, why don’t you place these papers in a large, manila envelope and accompany me? You will much better be able to answer any questions she may have on all of this.” 

“Uh, sure, sure, Doc,” a grateful Lucas replied. It felt good being included not only in the sleuthing but also the brainstorming on a case. It felt great! 

After Henry and Lucas debriefed Reece in her office, she sought to get a warrant to search the former PC’s home. At the same time, she decided to continue to hold Nils because he hadn’t yet been there for 72 hours and she wanted to know where all the ducks were lined up before releasing him. 

vvvv 

Back at their home above Abe’s Antiques, Jo read over the information she’d uncovered again, wishing that she could be in on the investigation. How she wished she could confront the former PC with the dirt she’d uncovered and grill him on what he knew about Collins and the apparent murder-for-hire of Wills and Kalimi. But she especially wanted to know why Nils had been hired to impersonate Sean. If the objective was to shake her up, well, it had been successful. But why try to have her killed? She’d racked her brain to find an answer, some reason that would connect her to the former PC but she couldn’t come up with anything. 

Abe had volunteered to pick Rennie up from daycare after a call from Dad. Even though Jo had insisted on picking him up, Abe had won out with his argument that she was still under doctor’s orders to rest. Besides, he told her, no use to make her protection parked across the street burn gas unnecessarily trying to keep up with her on a run to the daycare and back. He assured her that he and his little brother would be back in a jiffy with a pint of her favorite ice cream to boot. 

Jo smiled at that and settled back to do something she rarely was able to do: watch the tail end of an afternoon talk show that led into an early evening news program. Just like any other stay-at-home Mom, she jokingly told herself. A familiar creak on the stairs caught her attention. She thought that Abe had left already as she recalled having heard the bell tinkle over the shop’s entrance. 

“Abe, is that you?” she called out into the direction of the stairwell. When there was no response, she called again. “Abe, stop playing around. Did you forget something?” There was still no response but the deliberate fall of footsteps on the stairs grew louder. She looked toward the stairwell and saw the figure of a man emerge from it. He wasn’t Abe but he was most definitely familiar. 

“I’m not Abe, my dear,” the white-haired man replied, shaking his head slightly with a mildly-sinister smile on his lips. His facial muscles twitched and his eyes danced with the anticipation of a hungry predator as it finally closed in on its prey. “And, I can assure you that I’m not here to play around any longer.” He slowly stepped closer to her and pulled a gun out of his coat pocket. 

“Former Commissioner McLoughlin,” Jo managed to say as she slowly rose to her feet. “Wha-what are you doing here?” And where was Abe? Was he all right? Suddenly worried for their elder son, she swallowed but fought to remain calm while she also wondered where her so-called protective backup was! Luckily, she’d had the hindsight to keep her own weapon near her during this time. Just in case. She slowly circled away from the settee to her right while McLoughlin continued to slowly circle towards her, keeping to his right. Just as she began to slowly reach for her gun in her sweater pocket, he spoke again. 

“Ah-ah,” he warned her in a sing-song manner. Then, steeling his features, he barked at her to raise her hands, which she reluctantly did. “Now. Nice and slow, take your gun out.” He watched her lower one arm and reach into her sweater pocket. “Two fingers!” he barked louder. She produced the gun, gripping it upside down with her thumb and middle finger on the magazine. “Put it on the floor.” Once she did that, he commanded her to kick it over to him. He quickly bent down to retrieve it and stood back up just as quickly. 

_'Spry for a man of his advanced age,’_ Jo wryly noted to herself. 

He then stuffed the gun into his coat pocket all the while keeping eye contact with her and his gun pointed at her. “I’m sure you’re just dying to ask me what this is all about,” he stated. A mirthless laugh erupted from him before he added, “Sorry. Couldn’t resist the pun.” 

Jo, her hands still up, shrugged and replied, “Since it looks like you’re determined to kill me, it would be kinda nice to know why.” 

“Good. Good. Calm in the face of impending danger,” he commended her. “I like that.” 

After a moment of silence, she asked, “Why? Why have someone parade around in the guise of my late husband? Why try to kill me? Why were those two men ---.” 

“Whoa, one at a time, my dear,” he laughingly advised as he patted his free hand at her. “I … really have nothing against you except for the fact that you exist.” When she frowned in confusion, he continued. “Your late husband, Sean Moore … he was the thorn in my side.” His laughing demeanor darkened into anger as memories of Sean’s actions that had threatened his livelihood came back to him. “He was the one that I wanted to stop. To leave me alone. But he couldn’t be bribed like some others. He couldn’t be dissuaded. Always saw the truth in things. Always needed to do what was right and make others like me do what was right.” A chuckle left him even though he looked anything but happy. 

“Moore had stumbled upon my private little … empire,” he said. “So meticulously planned and put together. No one suspected anything. That is, until he became Assistant DA and looked over some old case files involving a certain drug dealer who’d, shall we say, walked on a technicality.” 

“Let me guess,” Jo interjected. “One of your crooked cops deliberately messed up his arrest in exchange for cutting you in on the action. Naturally, you had to come up with some kind of financial scheme to cover up your Meth windfall.” 

“Meth? Good. Good. You most likely already know everything about my operation, then,” he marveled. “You’re smarter than I thought you were.” 

“Did you kill Sean?” she asked, working hard to control her tears. 

“No,” he replied. “The foolish hero died of a heart attack before any of us could get to him.” 

“Okay, then … why me? Why target me now?” she asked, still confused but relieved that Sean’s death had been from natural causes without any other sinister influence. 

“Because you’re here for the taking!” he excitedly replied, his eyes opening widely. “Don’t you see? I couldn’t get to him and I needed to, to, satisfy that itch, that need. That need for revenge.” He was standing in front of the settee where she had stood only moments ago but she was still not close enough to the stairs to dart down them. 

“You understand, don’t you?” he asked. “I’ve spent my whole life, my entire career as a law enforcement officer doing good for others. And when I found out how small my pension would be, I simply decided to supplement it the best way that I could. Moore was getting in the way of that. Everything would have fallen apart. Everything that I held most dear to me would have been lost. And after he died, I … I couldn’t shake the need to still make him pay. Don’t you see?! I need to do this, to finish what I’ve started! I’ve always prided myself on finishing what I start.” He suddenly kicked the coffee table aside and stepped forward, aiming the gun directly at her chest. 

“Time to say goodbye, my dear.” 

The obviously deranged old man straightened his arm and took aim at her. An object came hurtling into the room from the direction of the stairwell, startling him but giving Jo the opportunity to lunge forward and tackle him. They fought for control of the gun and it went off between them. His striking blue eyes widened while his mouth formed a silent O. Although she felt the warm blood oozing between them, she knew that the bullet had only penetrated him. They’d stumbled against the settee and he now crumpled to the floor in pain holding his profusely bleeding abdomen. She wrested his gun away from him and tossed it across the floor then retrieved her own from out of his pocket. The fallen man, in more ways than one, had no more fight left in him and did not resist. As she applied pressure to the wound in what she felt to be a futile attempt to save his life, she reached out and grabbed her cell phone from off of the floor and called 9-1-1. Abe emerged from the stairwell and shuffled into the room, rubbing the back of his head. 

“You all right, Abe?” she asked. He closed his eyes and nodded, sighing. “Thanks for distracting him like that. A perfect throw of that --- cheap-looking horse statue.” 

“What perfect?” he asked, spreading his hands. “I was aiming for his head.” He gingerly touched the back of his own head again and winced. “Trying to repay the favor!” 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Obviously, as one reviewer brought up, the cheap-looking horse statue was the Tang Dynasty horse with the awful patina from the Diamonds are Forever episode.


	8. Another Sean Ch 8 END

Across the street from the antique shop, Jo’s protective backup, Det. Bryan Wilkerson, had seen an elderly, white-haired man as he’d entered the shop. The man matched the description of former PC McLoughlin. The only thought to cross Wilkerson’s mind was that the PC was into antiques or maybe friends with the elderly owner, Abe. A couple of minutes later, the call had crackled over the car’s radio that Reece had put out a BOLO on him. He immediately notified dispatch that he had spotted the former PC and requested more backup. 

“I’m going in,” he said before dropping the mic and hurriedly exiting the car. At the sound of a single gunshot emanating from within the shop, he pulled his gun and ran across the street. The door was open and he quickly surveyed the retail area with his gun pointed out in front of him. The sound of a scuffle from the second floor got his attention and he darted up the stairs. He lowered his gun and holstered it after Jo had identified herself and Abe and that the situation was under control. 

“He likely?” Wilkerson asked, catching his breath and holstering his gun. 

Jo, breathless herself, replied that she’d called for a bus. “What took you so long?” she asked, unable to hide her irritation. 

“I saw him come in here but to me, he was just the former PC shopping or visiting. The call came in afterwards and I responded as quickly as I could,” he said defensively. 

Jo wasn’t sure who she could trust at this point. She nodded mutely when Wilkerson said help should be arriving soon. His words were backed up by the blare of sirens and the screeching of tires outside the shop. She stepped aside as unis and EMT’s took charge of McLoughlin and tended to Abe’s head wound. Only after they’d cleared out did she pull off her own bloodied clothes and jump into the shower. After she’d lathered up and began to relax under the spray of water against her body, the bathroom door burst open and the shower curtains were yanked aside, startling her for a moment. She was confronted with her breathless and visibly shaken husband. Although the water was still pouring over her still soapy body and he was fully clothed, expensive scarf, suit and all, he grabbed her and clung to her in a desperate embrace. At first, she hesitated to return the embrace for fear of ruining his expensive outfit. But the water was shooting down on him, as well. Oh, what the hell, she thought and her arms encircled him. No words were exchanged between them except for an occasional kiss on the cheek or neck then a lingering kiss after staring into each other’s eyes. They sought comfort in the tight embrace, assuring each other that she was all right. That she’d survived this latest ordeal. 

vvvv 

Fortunately, Jo’s sister had retrieved Rennie from daycare but she had insisted on bringing him home with her to spend the night. Just to give you guys a little break, she’d said. And Abe was resting comfortably in his room after Henry had re-examined the bump on his head once too often. Abe had finally shooed him away with assurances that his skull was much too thick for that old geyser to have done any permanent damage to it. Dinner had been Vietnamese takeout but most of it sat untouched in the refrigerator since its partakers had found themselves with appetites more diminished by the scary events than they’d realized. 

Henry, now stripped down to boxers, smiled as he sat on the bed in their room while he watched Jo close her eyes and relax into the pillows. His soggy clothes still lay in a heap in the tub. Forever ruined but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that Jo and Abe were all right. A cross between a moan and a groan escaped Jo’s lips while he massaged her still healing left leg. 

“Mmmm, what would I do without you, Dr. Morgan?” she throatily asked, her eyes still closed. When the massage stopped, she opened her eyes to study him. He hadn’t replied and he looked deep in thought. “Earth to Henry.” 

He blinked out of his thoughts and returned her gaze of concern. “I can only think about what I would do without you, Jo, should anything happen to you. If something had happened to you or Abe.” He sat back and rested one hand on his knee with his other gently kneading her thigh. Her hands found his and her fingers entwined with his. 

“We’re not going to have this old argument again, are we?” she tiredly asked. “I’m a cop, Henry. It’s in my blood to be a cop as much as it’s in yours to be a medical man.” 

“Won’t you even consider perhaps looking into becoming a CSI?” 

“No,” she emphatically replied. “Not an ME and not a paralegal, either.” The tiny lines knit together between her brows and she seemed to be in memory recall mode. “I know I said it before that the night before Sean left, we had argued but I forgot what it was about … it was about this.” She looked up at Henry and propped herself up on one elbow. “He wanted me to get a job that didn’t require me to carry a gun, too.” A soft laugh erupted from her. “Funny how I had forgotten but now I remember it clear as day.” 

“I most definitely can understand and share the concern he must have had for you.” 

“That’s … very sweet of you but like I told him then, I’m telling you now: I am a cop. You knew that when you met me and I have no intentions of NOT being one anytime soon.” She heaved a deep sigh before asking, “Are we arguing about this?” 

“More like you’re telling me once again where to get off,” he replied with a soft smile and a raised eyebrow at her. 

She fought against her own smile as she rolled her eyes and heaved another deep sigh. Her cell phone rang and she chose to answer it rather than respond. “Martinez” … “Um, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Lieu.” She looked at Henry while she listened and nodded. “Alright, sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow morning.” She ended the call and smiled broadly at Henry. 

“That was Lt. Reece,” he stated more than asked. “What plan is she referring to?” 

“Oh, something about that crazy McLoughlin,” she replied as she allowed the bath towel covering her torso to fall away. She then climbed onto his lap, straddling him. 

A broad smile worked its way across his face as his large hands found her hips and he squeezed his long fingers into each of her cheeks. “Is this your way of apologizing?” he asked, his eyes dancing over her features. 

“Nope,” she replied in a whisper. As she leaned forward into her kiss, he found himself lying on his back with her nestling in on top of him. “It’s my way of reminding you that you cannot win when I’ve made up my mind.” She nuzzled the side of his neck and it was his turn to moan. 

“Mmmm, please remind me as much as or as long as you wish, darling.” 

vvvv 

The next morning, Henry sat in Reece’s office as she welcomed back Jo and Mike a couple of days early since the case was, for the most part, solved and they both had been cleared by their respective doctors to return to work. Collins’ bail had been revoked after he’d been apprehended trying to catch a flight out of the country. 

“Know where he was headed?” Mike asked. 

“Kosovo, most likely,” Reece replied. “He has family there on his mother’s side. But we’ve got another situation.” She explained that it was nothing short of a miracle that former PC McLoughlin had survived surgery to repair his gunshot wound but he appeared to be totally lost in a dream world all his own. “Even so, his doctors don’t feel that he has long to live. He said he’s willing to confess his sins like a good Catholic before he meets his maker and … he wants to confess to ADA Sean Moore.” 

“Well, he’s really crazy,” Mike declared with much condemnation. 

“Besides that being utterly impossible,” Jo added. 

“Well, if we want the whole story from him,” Henry began, his hands clasped behind his back, “we do have another Sean available to take his confession. That is, if he’s willing to do so.” 

vvvv 

A dubious Nils Sjoberg patted the hairpiece and surveyed his appearance in the hospital’s restroom mirror. Wahl did a good job adding the finishing touches to his makeup, he noted to himself. A prosthetic covered his nose to make it look more like Sean’s had. He let out a sigh and straightened up, shaking both arms. “Okay,” he said out loud to himself. “Showtime.” 

As he left the men’s restroom and walked the short distance to McLoughlin’s room , he recalled Reece’s words to him right before she’d released him from Holding. 

_“Promise me that the next time you have doubts about doing something like this … feel free to call me first. It just might save you a lot of time and grief.” While they walked out of the Holding Unit and he retrieved his possessions, she also said, “I took a look at your finances. Might think about debt counseling. And stay out of the strip clubs.” She’d paused to look at him with a slight smile. “At least for a while.”_

They’d already discussed the situation with McLoughlin wishing to confess only to ADA Sean Moore. Nils had agreed to impersonate him one last time in order to not only have the DA “go easy” on him, but for him to show them all, especially Jo, how sorry he was for having gotten involved in the scheme in the first place. In order to get his voice and mannerisms down, he’d been able to study an old videotape of Sean when he’d questioned a suspect, Aaron Brown, several years ago. But he hoped that he wouldn’t have to say too much. Thankfully, the fallen PC was expected to do most of the talking. 

Nils entered McLoughlin’s room and found the videotape equipment already set up. The fallen man lay in his bed with his eyes closed but he opened them as soon as he heard the door open. 

“ADA Moore. How nice to see you again,” the old man said resignedly. “You’ve won. You can get your damn confession out of me now; and I have so much to tell you.” 

vvvv 

Later that afternoon in the precinct’s small conference room, Team Morgan reviewed McLoughlin’s taped confession, marveling at Nils’ almost flawless portrayal of Sean. It was enough to make them all believe that they were actually seeing him again, and enough to make them realize that the young man was truly a gifted actor. Their concern was most evident, naturally, for how Jo might be reacting to seeing it. They watched until the end, though, and Jo only appeared to be greatly interested in the information the former PC had provided and greatly impressed at Nils’ performance. 

“That’s it,” Reece announced. She left her chair and walked to the door where she paused. “Run everything over to the DA, and … good work, everyone.” She then left the conference room and headed toward her office. 

Mike removed the videotape from the TV and slipped its cover back onto it. He then placed it in a clear, plastic evidence bag. “Quite an acting job,” he said as he moved toward the door. 

“I actually, uh, helped him with his makeup,” Lucas said as he walked closely behind him. “The nose piece, you know,” he told Mike as he patted his fingers around the edges of his own nose. 

“Really?” Mike said as he walked out of the room and into the bullpen. “Ever thought about wearin’ one of those yourself? Might help you more to get chicks,” he teased. 

Lucas stutter-stepped behind him, slightly offended at his remark. “Wha---? I do just fine getting chicks, if you must know!” 

“Yeah, just not keepin’ ‘em,” Mike teased further as he made his way to his desk, Lucas still hovering near him. 

“Well … one day I suppose I’ll be an Old Married Man like you,” Lucas countered. 

“Old? Who you callin’ old, ya young twerp!” Mike barked back at him. 

Henry and Jo chuckled as they watched their two colleagues bicker and pick at each other. He clasped his hands in front of him and rolled his shoulders back, tipping his head toward Jo standing beside him. “Mother, it greatly disheartens me when children don’t seem to be able to get along with each other,” he said with a mock sigh of disappointment. 

Jo chuckled and asked, “What did your mother do when you guys misbehaved like they are?” 

“She took us aside and ---.” 

“--- reasoned with you?” she finished for him with a cynical grin. 

“No,” he replied. “She took us aside and left us with the governess to do that.” 

“Oh, I forgot. Rich kids like you had a governess.” 

He laughed softly as they stood just inside the conference room door. “What did your mother do?” 

“What else?” she replied. “She whacked us and told us to shut up!” 

Amused, Henry pursed his lips over a smile and raised his eyebrows. They both looked at Mike and Lucas still taking digs at each other and Henry looked at Jo again. “I propose we employ your mother’s method of discipline.” She grinned and nodded and they both marched over to their two colleagues. This was going to be fun. 

END 

vvvvvvvv 

Author's Notes: 

Thank you all for going on this latest journey with me and for your comments and kudos. Hope you'll join me again soon with my next fic.

Notes: 

Countries with no extradition treaty with U.S. found at [ https://internationalman.com/articles/which-countries-can-the-nsa-whistleblower-escape-to/ ](https://internationalman.com/articles/which-countries-can-the-nsa-whistleblower-escape-to/)

Slight reference to “Forever” TV show 2014-2015 S01/E13 Diamonds Are Forever. 


End file.
